


Little Fifteen

by flowersforgraves



Series: please help I'm in depeche mode hell [43]
Category: Fake AH Crew (Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter)
Genre: Cats, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Heist, Trans Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: "I got a cat," Michael says.
Series: please help I'm in depeche mode hell [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1130651
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos





	Little Fifteen

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for requesting "A Fandom You Wish Had Been Requested"

When Jeremy had shoved the tiny, shivering ball of fur into Michael’s hands and shouted “Protect it!” before gunning his engine and driving off, Michael’s first thought had been _what the fuck_. His second thought had been _it can’t be that hard, Gavin’s owned cats_. 

Two hours later, Michael’s pretty sure he’s never been more wrong in his life. The kitten is _tiny_ in a way that’s almost terrifying. Michael has never been a cat person, and most of the things the kitten is doing are unprecedented in terms of his dog experiences. It’s curled up asleep right now, thank fuck, nestled in the inner pocket of his Lone Wolf jacket. He’s already called Gavin for help three times, despite the fact that they’re still very much in the middle of a heist.

He’s about to call Lindsay and beg her to take the thing off his hands when Trevor’s voice crackles to life in his earpiece. “Mogar, the cops are on your tail!”

“What the fuck,” Michael says, because honestly, what the _fuck_ could be so important about this goddamn kitten?

“I dunno,” Trevor replies, sounding harried. “But whatever it is, they want you bad. Blow up another police station?”

“I got a cat,” Michael says, and swings a leg over his bike. He pulls the jacket closed over his chest -- it’s cold, at least as far as Los Santos goes, and he doesn’t want the kitten to fall out or something. Even though cats always land on their feet. It’s still asleep, and it’s still a tiny thing making itself warm against Michael’s chest, and Michael feels oddly protective of it even though he doesn’t even like cats.

Trevor doesn’t reply, which means Michael’s on his own unless something goes drastically wrong. He doesn’t mind, but it makes communicating that much harder. He’s supposed to meet Ryan and Gavin back at the safehouse sometime in the next four hours, but this cat is apparently a valuable asset and Michael’s not risking the safehouse for it. This is the one goddamn safehouse that has enough beds for everyone, and if it gets fucked up because of him, he’ll never hear the end of it.

The cat wakes up as soon as Michael hits the freeway. He can barely hear it past the roar of police sirens behind him and the wind in his hair, and he almost chokes on the stereotype of it all. Getting out of Los Santos County is going to be a chore and a half, but he has enough gas to make it at least out of the city proper. 

The kitten’s mewing turns from confusion and excitement to distress almost faster than Michael can comprehend. The tiny claws hook into his shirt as the kitten tries to crawl out of his jacket. He takes one hand off the handlebars to cradle it gently, as stabilizing as he can be while speeding down 215 at half that many miles per hour. “Shh,” he says, but the wind whips it away almost before the words can leave his mouth. 

He glances over his shoulder briefly, checking to see how closely the police cars are following. It’s far enough that he feels comfortable reaching into his pocket for a hand grenade, which he tosses over his shoulder casually. Michael tries to hold the kitten up, but it yowls and twists away.

He grumbles a little bit, but takes a sharp turn off to the side and slows to under 50. The kitten settles once the wind slows, and Michael strokes its head absentmindedly with one finger.

The police car explodes with a satisfyingly loud boom, which Michael regrets he wasn’t there to witness. He briefly contemplates trying to jump the guardrail, but decides against it for the kitten’s sake. Instead, he turns off the nearest exit and pulls into an alleyway shadowed on either side by buildings.

“Mogar checking in. You got plans to get the cops off my ass?” he asks into his mic. 

“Vagabond’s on his way,” Jack says. Her voice sounds clearer than Michael’d expected. “I’m dropping off the rest of the haul before I join you, but V should be there in a minute or two.”

“Even V isn’t going to make them all stop,” Michael says. “I blew up the first squad car, but I’m pretty sure that’s not going to help, actually.”

Trevor cuts in. “Golden Boy says to tell you to hurry the fuck up, Mogar. You got something he wants, apparently.”

Michael looks down at the kitten, snuggled once more against his chest. “Yeah, this little fucker.” He pulls out his phone to snap a quick photo, which he sends to the group text. “I’m not a fucking cat person, I don’t know why Rimmy gave me this.”

Jeremy’s laughing when he shouts, “You were closest!” much louder than he needs to. From the sound of it, he’s on the highway too, and the static means he’s probably headed north. “Are you sending V after me too?” he asks. “I’m dealing with some heat myself.”

“Only one Vagabond,” Michael deadpans. “Not enough of your boy to go around, Rimmy.” The cat squirms under his hands, so Michael resumes petting it. It’s grey with darker spots around its muzzle, and it’s purring very quietly. “What’s so important about this little fucker anyway?”

“She’s just a bonus,” Jeremy says. “She was really scared and looked like she’d been abused, so I grabbed her.”

“It’s a she?” Michael asks, scratching her ears. 

“Dunno,” Jeremy says. “I’ll look when we get back though.”

“Speaking of,” Trevor calls, “Mogar, you need to come back to the safehouse.”

“On my way,” Michael says, watching the last of the pursuing squad cars race past the alley’s entrance. He revs the engine of his bike, and heads back out of the alleyway. “Vagabond, if you want to intercept them, they’re headed east.”

The robotic voice Ryan uses as a stand-in for actually speaking replies, “Acknowledged.”

Michael keeps to side streets and alleys until he hears gunfire a few streets over, signaling Ryan’s arrival. “Heading back now. I’ll be at Point Lake in fifteen.” 

With Ryan keeping the cops busy, Michael manages to stay under the radar until he gets to their safehouse. The kitten has gone back to sleep, thank god, and when Michael unlocks the door Gavin looks up.

“Michael! Glad you made it back safe, boi.” He’s still hunched over his laptop, surrounded by three other monitors and too many cans of Redbull. “Bring her here?”

Michael unzips his jacket and carefully pulls the kitten out of the inner pocket. “Here. Your problem now,” he says. 

“Aaaw!” Gavin squeaks, cupping the kitten in both hands. “Hi there, little girl!”

Michael snorts. “How’s everyone else doing?” He heads to the kitchen to wash up, and bumps into Trevor. “Hey Treyco.”

“Everyone else seems fine,” Trevor says. “I’m honestly worried that it’s going so well.”

Gavin makes another squeak, tickling the kitten under the chin. “She’s so _small_ , Michael! Look at how little!”

Trevor pulls up a chair next to Gavin. “Give me the cat,” he says. “You need to keep focused on the GPS stuff, Gav.”

Gavin reluctantly relinquishes the kitten, but not before petting her ears once more. “Fine. But if she starts purring you have to let me hold her.”

Trevor adjusts his earpiece, and presses a button. “Hey Pilot?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “What’s up?”

“Are you free to back up Rimmy?” Trevor asks.

“I don’t need backup,” Jeremy interrupts. “Kingpin’s just about here and Sauce is covering him.”

"Cancel that, Pilot,” Trevor says. “Kingpin, can you estimate how much the LSPD is sending after you and Rimmy? Like, how bad do they want you?”

Geoff’s voice cracks with excitement. “They want us fucking bad, dude! This is heisting! It’s not something important enough to hunt us down, but they’re horny to capture the Fakes. You know this already!”

“Roger,” Jack says, laughing. “I’ll be at Lake in two and then I can go out again if Vagabond needs me.”

Michael leans over Gavin’s shoulder. “Looked like V had it handled when I left, but I don’t know if that’s changed.”

“V?” Trevor asks.

The only thing coming from Ryan’s comm is the sound of gunfire for a long moment, then the robotic text-to-speech voice says, “On my way.”

“Still off the hook, then,” Jack says, and Michael winces at the feedback from her being too close. Looking out the window, he watches her park the car and haul a burlap sack out of the passenger seat. “I’m home, boys!”

He opens the door, rubbing his temples with the other hand. “Hey Jack. No issues, right?”

“All good,” she tells him, grinning. “Hold this.” 

The sack is abruptly in Michael’s hands, and she’s running back to grab a second load. It’s fucking heavy, so he swings it up onto the counter before Jack returns with the other bag. “The fuck did you grab that was so heavy?” he asks. “This thing’s gotta weigh a hundred pounds.”

She shrugs. “There’s a statue in one of them. Where’s the kitty?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “In there. Trevor’s got her. Gav was getting too distracted.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and she sheds her driving gloves as she hurries into the living room where Gavin’s setup still hums. Michael trails after her, pausing to make sure the door is locked.

“Ohh, look at her!” Jack exclaims, dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor. “She’s adorable!” She reaches out, beckoning Trevor to hand the kitten to her. Once she sets it in her lap, the kitten chirps and turns around several times in Jack’s lap before settling down. 

Gavin turns, eyes wide. “Was that her?” he asks, barely audible.

Jack’s smiling down at the kitten, and Michael finally gives in and sits down next to her. “Yeah, Gavin, but the GPS first,” he reminds.

The kitten blinks sleepily at Michael, then stretches out a tiny paw to rest on his knee. “Aww, she likes you,” Jack says, stroking the kitten’s back with one finger. “I think she’s gonna fall asleep.”

“Glad it’s you and not me, then,” Michael says. “My knees are killing me.” He stretches out one leg, then the other, and lies down on his back to stare at the ceiling. His earpiece comes loose, and he doesn’t bother putting it back in. “We’re not keeping her, are we?”

“Of course we are!” Gavin exclaims. “How could we not? She’s so _cute_! Lindsay’s gonna love her.”

“Gav. The GPS,” Trevor says, but Gavin’s preempted the comment by returning his attention to the screen.

He pushes the button to make the call. “Hey, Rimmy? Where are you going?”

Jeremy sounds tense. “I’m losing the goddamn cops, Golden Boy, what do you think I’m doing?”

“Jesus, Tim, I was just asking,” Gavin says. “You’re way off track from where we planned.”

“Kingpin here,” Geoff says, forced casual. “There’s more cops on Rimmy than Sauce and I thought. We’ve got it handled, but don’t expect us to be home for dinner.”

Jack calls from the floor, “We’ll save you leftovers!”

Michael closes his eyes so the ceiling stops swimming with waves of exhaustion. “Ask Ryan when he’s planning to be back.”

Gavin rustles some paper around, then mumbles something inaudible. Michael cracks one eye open and turns his head to see what’s going on. “Ryan’s almost back, Michael. He’s okay.”

“The way you said that makes me think he’s neither on the way back or okay,” Michael grumbles, but closes his eye again. “Wake me up if you need me.”

“Your back’s gonna be killing you tomorrow,” Jack warns. 

“No it’s not,” Michael says, because he’s a contrary bastard and he doesn’t want to admit she’s right. The kitten chirps again, and he feels little paws pressing on his chest and inquisitively exploring his face. “Do you want to take care of this?” he asks.

“No,” Jack says, and Michael falls asleep.


End file.
